


A Garden of Potters

by Agapanthus_Enthusiast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapanthus_Enthusiast/pseuds/Agapanthus_Enthusiast
Summary: AU oneshot where James and Lily TOTALLY NEVER DIED, because I really like baby names and I like to imagine Lily and James having a bunch of babies and arguing about said names.





	A Garden of Potters

“Daisy?”

“Nah, it’s been done.” 

“True. Dandelion?”

“That’s a rubbish flower. That’s not even a flower. That’s a weed.”

“Okay, crossing off Dandelion. Iris?”

“Not bad, but I used to know an Iris I didn’t like.”

“Who? I don’t remember anyone in our year named Iris.”

“No, she was in my kindergarten class.”

James Potter, dignified father of three-about-to-be-four, clutched at his hair so hard that a few strands came out. The scrap of paper in his hand fluttered sadly onto the floor. “Kindergarten? You’re vetoing a perfectly good floral name because of some bloody girl you knew when you were five?“ 

“It’s not a veto, it’s just a let’s-shelve-that-one-for-the-time-being.” Lily pouted. “And she was awful! She stole my favorite crayon! How was I supposed to finish the pastoral masterpiece of the century without Kelly Green?” 

“’Pastoral masterpiece?’ Is that what you call one of those approximately seventy million rolling-hills landscapes with the blobby sheep that your mum has all over the, whatchamacallit, refrideragor?” 

“Look, what else have you got? Sirius can only keep them entertained for so long and then God knows when we’ll have another hour to ourselves to discuss this.” 

James cursed mentally before leaning forward and retrieving the paper. “Azalea?” 

“Ugh. No.”

“Pansy?”

“There’s already a Pansy who’ll be in Harry’s year at Hogwarts. The Parkinsons.”

“Oh. Eurgh. Yeah, Pansy’s out. Daphne?”

“Harry’s year. Greengrass.”

“Damn. Astoria?” 

“Younger Greengrass.”

“What are they doing, growing a bloody garden?”

“Pot, this is kettle, I’ve something to tell you and you’re not going to like it—”

“Oh, shut up. Agapanthus?”

Lily buried her face in her hands and let out a guttural moan. “Agapanthus? Agapanthus Potter? Have you lost your mind?”

“Hey, they’re pretty flowers. We could call her Aggie,” James suggested hopefully. “Or Panther? Or, here’s a crazy thought, we could name her something that isn’t flower-related. Like…Liz.” 

“Right,” Lily said, a touch more sarcastically than James personally thought necessary. “Liz. Perfect. That’ll go great with the rest of the family, won’t it? I can picture it now. Come along, Harry, Violet, Camellia, and Liz, let’s play a fun game where we try to guess the exact point at which Mummy and Daddy stopped trying.” 

“Okay, okay, point taken,” James said hastily. Eight months into her pregnancy, his wife currently shared roughly the size and, hormonally speaking, the temperament of an active volcano, and the best thing he could do at this point was steer the subject into slightly less dangerous waters. “Shall we take a break from girl names and discuss possibilities for a boy? I still think Fl—” 

Lily’s nostrils flared. “For the last time, we are NOT naming ANYONE Fleamont.”

“It’s a family name!” James said, stung. “And it’d build character!”

She opened her mouth to argue, but when she glanced at him, his expression made her bite her lip. “Look, I know you miss him. Them.”

“It’s got nothing to do with—”

“And much as I wish your dad had gotten to meet his grandchildren, believe me when I say he’d’ve hated the idea of one of them bearing his name.”

James closed his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. And so do you. He specifically put it in the will, as you very well remember. So did your mum.” Lily put an arm around James’s shoulders, her matter-of-fact voice belying the sympathy in her eyes. She’d learned long ago that coddling her husband only led to him wallowing; he did much better talking out whatever was bothering him and then moving on.

He rested his cheek against her head. “Is it wrong of me to be jealous of you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Because I am, a bit. When we visit your parents’ house and your mum is so excited to put up one of Harry or Vi’s finger-paintings…and Camellia sees your dad and her whole face lights up—sometimes literally, as in the case of last month’s involuntary wandless magic incident—and I look at that big baby-picture collage that crams in all of ours next to those ones of your nephew where he looks like a beige Quaffle, and I think ‘I could hang some of those above the fireplace, now that Dad’s moved his old dueling awards to the sitting room,’ and then I remember.”

“I know,” Lily said, wishing she could say something more helpful. “I mean, I don’t know know, obviously. But. You know.”

“What?” 

“Er. I don’t know.”

They both giggled, and James wiped his eyes. “I just wish they’d gotten to meet the kids, is all. And that the kids had gotten to meet them.” 

“Well, Harry definitely has your dad’s knees,” Lily said. “And Vi’s eyes are exactly like your mum’s. Camellia’s sass levels, much like your father’s, are off the charts, if yesterday’s pea-transfiguration ordeal is anything to go by. Who knows what of your parents this little one’s going to inherit?”

“That’s true,” James said. He was silent for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and lifted his head. “It’ll never be the same, though.”

“I know,” Lily said again. She chewed her lip and then carefully said, “What about a middle name?”

“What?”

“All your dad said was that he didn’t want any of his grandchildren to be called Fleamont in a fit of sentimentality. But he didn’t say anything about a middle name. And people stick children with horrible middle names all the time.”

“That’s true,” James said, his expression brightening impossibly quickly. He gave her a loud, overdramatic kiss, and she grinned. “God, how are you always the best?”

“I’ll remind you of that the next time you whinge about my not letting you put an invisibility booster on the Camry.”

James side-eyed her and decided to drop the subject before his current streak of emotional honesty could guilt him into admitting that he’d successfully installed the booster nearly six months ago. Considering the hormonal volcano and all that, it was self-preservation. “Hey, now we’re getting somewhere! What are some names that’d sound good before Fleamont or Euphemia?” 

“That’d be none of them,” Lily sighed, and then a crash from downstairs, a muffled oath, and a delighted shriek of “UNCLE SIRIUS, THAT’S A BAD WORD” signaled that the matter would have to be shelved for another day.


End file.
